Verses and Rhymes By the Way Part 7

The strong and the brave are lost, Do we keep the tender and fair?

Does the demon who strikes down fathers and sons, All the daughters and sisters spare?

Bar cellar saloon Cellar, saloon and bar,-- Oh! who will preach a new crusade, Or join in this holy war?

With garments for sorrow torn,-- With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat by a new made grave, Bewailing over the dead Weep! weep! weep!

How many will weep in vain?

How many will rise in a holy cause, That the slayer may be slain?

COMFORT YE, COMFORT YE MY PEOPLE

(Noel.)

By the sad fellowship of human suffering, By the bereavements that are thine and mine, I venture--oh, forgive me!--with this offering, I would it were to thee G.o.d's oil and wine

I too have suffered--is it then surprising If to thy sacred grief I enter in?

My spirit draws near thine all sympathising, Sorrow, like love, "makes aliens near of kin."

Thou'rt weeping for thy gathered blossoms, mother, The Lord had need of him, and called him soon, In morning freshness ere the dews of heaven Were chased before the burning rays of noon.

Thy darling child, like to G.o.d's summer blossom, Was very fair and pleasant to the sight, The sunny head that rested on thy bosom, The loving eyes that were thy heart's delight,

Made pa.s.sers by look on him with a blessing, Saying, "His mother is not all alone; Her widowed sorrow, in that sweet caressing, Will find some comfort for the lost and gone."

I miss him from the doorway, blythely playing, Where he has turned on me his winsome face; O lovely child! I said, "by lone hearth staying, Thou'lt make the widow's home a pleasant place."

The little one, thy comfort in affliction, With the sweet face earnest and innocent; That was to thee like Heaven's benediction, Such children for a little while are lent.

Pilgrims and strangers are we in our praying, But birds of pa.s.sage to a brighter sh.o.r.e; Yet build our nests as if for ever staying, We and our treasures, here for evermore

But when our nestlings by the Master taken Up in G.o.d's Paradise to safely sing; And by the empty nest we wail forsaken, In the great loneliness of suffering.

We lift our tearful eyes in sorrow's blindness, And cry to him for very helplessness, Then He reveals to us His loving kindness, Even in bereavements 'tis His will to bless

He says "Look up," that we may cease our crying, Seeing our treasures in glad safety there, And there our hearts will be--for upward flying In longing love, they cast off earthly care

Thy home is silent all the rippling laughter, The sound of racing feet at play, is fled, But he, thy darling led up by the Master, Is with the living--not among the dead

Thy little ones within the jasper portals, There by the crystal sea he learns to sing The new song only known to the immortals, Promoted to the presence of the King

The child is safe within the Father's mansion Safe on the hills of G.o.d in light to range, And heart ties stretched unto their utmost tension, Will, by G.o.d's touch, to golden harp strings change

On which the Master will soft music render, Soothing with heaven's airs thy pathway dim, On which love's messages all sweet and tender Shall run between thee and thy angel kin

And they will draw thee upward growing stronger, When flesh and heart will one day faint and fail, And thou wilt care for earthly things no longer, For all thy treasures are within the veil

MAJORITY.

So friend of mine 'tis thy birthday morn, And friends with fair gifts around thee come, Outside the circle I stand forlorn, My hands are empty my lips are dumb.

O Thou who seest in secret still, Who reads the heart when no word is said, The wishes that rise in prayer fulfil In royal blessings to crown his head.

Entering the portals of manhood now, The boy we loved from our knowledge slips, With fresh consecration seal his brow, With thy altar fire retouch his lips.

He girds himself for the strife anew, And love foresees what the dangers are; But thou, O Captain, art tried and true, 'Tis at thy charge he goes forth to war!

My empty hands to thy throne I lift, While parting sorrow my spirit swells, Lord, thou wilt give him a birthday gift Out of the place where Thy fulness dwells.

He's called and chosen to dare and do, To uphold Thy banner on battle field; Be Thou to him strength and wisdom too, In the day of strife, his sword and shield.

More than I ask Thou wilt give, O King!

What is my friendship or care to Thine!

To the banquet house Thy hand will bring And refresh his lips with the kingdom's wine.

MY OWN GREEN LAND

It was in the early morning Of life, and of hope to me, I sat on a gra.s.sy hillside Of the Isle beyond the sea, Erin's skies of changeful beauty Were bending over me.

The landscape, emerald tinted, Lying smiling in the sun, The gra.s.s with daisies sprinkled, And with shamrocks over run, The Maine water flashed and dimpled, Still flowing softly on.

The lark in the blue above me, A tiny speck in the sky, Rained down from its bosom's fulness A shower of melody, Dropping through the golden sunlight, And sweetly rippling by

Afar in the sunny distance, O'er the river's further brim, Like a stern old Norman warder, Stood the castle tall and grim, And, nearer a gra.s.sy ruin, Where an old name grew dim

I knew that the balmy gladness Was brooding from sea to sea, But I felt a note of sadness That sobered my youthful glee, The love of my mother Erin Stirred all my heart in me

Oh Erin! my mother Erin, Thou land of the tearful smile, Hearts that feel, and hands of helping Are thy children's blessed Isle'

The stranger is so no longer That rests on thy b.r.e.a.s.t.s awhile

Be he Saxon, Dane or Norman, That steps on thy kindly sh.o.r.e, Who sets his foot on thy daisies Is kinder for evermore, For thy _cead mille failtha_ Thrills warm to his bosom's care.

But Erin, never contented Struggles again and again, As all proud and free born captives Must strive with the conqueror's chain.

That, if ever snapped asunder, Is riveted firm again

The words of an Hebrew exile, Like to some sweet song's refrain, That sweetly goeth and cometh And echoes through heart and brain, "Be sure that the day is coming "When Erin shall rise again

"She only of all the nations, "Since in dust our temple lies, "Has not our blood on our garments "Has brought no tears to our eyes, "He says, they prosper who love us "Thy Erin at last shall rise."